


Crimson Peak

by Annasanvk



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 02:23:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18420864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annasanvk/pseuds/Annasanvk
Summary: Life had often not been fair to both Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger. For Ginny, her Father’s failing career had proven that from an early time on and for Hermoine being looked down upon for being born in a Muggle household had cemented that believe. However, none of them had thought life was this ironically cruel.Ginny certainly hadn’t expected to wake up to a cruelly smirking Blaise Zabini and Hermione- Hermione hadn't expected for Draco Malfoy to have a different side than the bullying Slytherin he always portrayed.When a prank goes wrong, how far will you go to find out who did it? Sexual tension runs high and it seems that the Slytherins aren’t the only ones with secrets.Updates sporadically (when the muse finally strikes again).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy this little mystery and let me know what you'll think!

Prologue

Soft light was filtering in through the small windows lining the left walls of the bedroom she’d woken up in. It must have been early for the light was still pale and gentle instead of harsh and strong when it moved up the mountains. The room was small, perhaps she would have called it even cosy, had she been feeling quite all right. The room was in a disarray. Furniture had been toppled over and an empty bottle lay on the floor, a large wet patch still drying on the carpet beneath it.

Their lips met hastily, tongues dancing to the tempo of the bass downstairs. Her fingers curled needily into his short cropped hair. She tasted the Firewhisky on his tongue. The zip of her jeans and the popping sound the buttons made when she yanked his shirt open should have stirred her brain, but the madness was too strong.

Ginny’s head was aching. Her head was aching rather badly actually. It felt like she had taken a Bludger to the head (which had happened before). With a groan, Ginny rolled on her side, ignoring her spinning head and swallowed as her stomach rolled with her.

‘What had happened?’

She sat up against the pillows and slowly opened her bleary, bloodshot caramel eyes. Her lips were dry and her head was aching so badly she needed to squeeze them close in an attempt to stop the bile from rising.

She knew what a hangover felt like. She had once nicked a bottle of bourbon from a supermarket, following Fred and George to an excluded spot near the Burrow, surrounded by thousands and thousands of tall daffodils. She remembered the distinct feel of the heat of the rock, on which she had been stretched out while they passed the bottle. Her brothers had been better at holding their liquor. She, on the other hand, got stupidly drunk. She vaguely recalled proclaiming to them her undying love for Harry Potter. The mere memory alone could still make her cheeks tinge pink and she’d stayed clear from alcoholic beverages since then. That was until now of course, and she rubbed her fingers over her temple. 

Opening her eyes, Ginny breathed out slowly. Long strands of auburn hair dangled in front of her face and the sun rays were reflected off of little specks of dust dangling in the room. An unfamiliar room. As panic began to rise, she kicked the too warm blankets off her chest and skidded off the bed, tumbling backwards and into a heap on the floor.

“What are you doing?” a sleepy voice asked.

Ginny stiffened. Not from the voice, no, at least she knew that voice, but from her clothes. Or should she say her lack of clothes? She scrambled to her feet, dragging the blankets off the bed and wrapping them around her naked torso, before turning towards the person — there had actually been a boy next to her in the bed — who’d spoken just seconds ago.

Blaise Zabini, fifth-year Slytherin student was peeking at her through his long lashes. He had propped himself up on one arm and was smirking at her. Her breathing sped up when she finally noticed the stiffness between her legs.

She wasn’t familiar with it, but she wasn’t stupid either. 

Hogwarts offered no lessons on sex education. Muggle schools actually did… She knew Hermione Granger had nagged about it for a complete evening before Ginny had enough and escaped to the Quidditch pitch. Her mother always laughed embarrassedly whenever the subject of sex came up, but there were books, magazines and gossip you could turn to whenever you were curious. That said, she knew what had happened. 

A chair had been overturned, clothing was strewn about the room and an empty bottle of Ogden's finest lay on the carpet. She noticed her bra dangling from the doorknob and someone’s underwear draped on the edge of another bed. A girl Ginny didn’t recognise was strewn out onto a different bed, while a pale arm was thrown over her petite frame.

“What happened here?” she whispered, before prodding Zabini with her index finger. “What did you do?”

“I’d say that’s somewhat obvious, princess.” he drawled and she felt the fingers of her right-hand curl into a fist with the need to hex the Italian boy into next Christmas.

“How— Why?” she asked, blinking as tears started to accumulate in her eyes. “Did you—” she couldn’t find the words nor did she know what exactly she wanted to ask.

A heat, scorching and tingling, laced her bloodstream and she heard her own moan reverberate through the room. Strong hands moved to her hips and urged her legs, jeans puddled to the floor, to wrap around his hips.

“You’re not thinking I drugged you do you?” he asked, the amused expression leaving his face. He slowly got up, unashamed of his nakedness. Ginny’s eyes widened, she had never seen a boy — who wasn’t family; and that had possibly been the awkwardest moment of her life — naked before, and she felt her cheeks redden even further. 

“Oh my God,” she mumbled, turning around and hiding her face into her hands.

Bits and pieces of the night before flashed before her closed eyelids. How Zabini had stumbled into the library celebrating his House’s Quidditch victory with a bottle of Ogden's finest and how he dared her into taking a few sips — which ended up in a quarter of the bottle. She remembered how he had backed her against a bookcase and snogged her — definitely, nothing like Seamus had done just a few weeks ago.How he had smuggled her into the Slytherin common room, although none of his housemates noticed as they were all partying — and she meant that in a very sexual gravitating way — pulled her up the stairs into his room, hoisted her up against the wall, while folding her legs around his waist and—

“Oh My— Merlin—” she whispered, her breathing growing more laboured. 

“Easy now, Weasley!” he told her, closing the distance between them, and catching her arm. “I didn’t force you or anything— Although it is weird that I sought you out— and that you came with me, actually.”

“You took advantage of my drunken state!” she accused, trying to wrench her arm free. His eyes narrowed, before pushing her back onto the bed. She struggled, the blankets falling off of her and she opened her mouth to scream. In a motion almost predatory, he pulled the blankets up to her chin and pressed his hand over her mouth. He was literally sitting on her hips and holding her torso down with one arm while keeping her from screaming with the other.

“Stuff it!” he hissed, “Do you really want to wake Nott or Parkinson up and be found out?”

Ginny’s eyes widened. He waited for a moment, before slowly pulling his hands away and sitting up. “Good, can I get you something?” he asked, the perfect-gentleman-mask slipped on as if he hadn’t slept with someone she was sure he viewed as a Blood-traitor. Refusing to entertain those thoughts she nodded.

“Do you have water?”

He smirked, before summoning a glass of the clear liquid. She accepted it.

“Isn’t she Malfoy’s girlfriend?” Ginny asked, gratefully bringing the glass of water to her lips, her eyes glancing back at the brunette on the other bed. She seemed to be sleeping soundly, cradling her own bottle of pure evil alcohol to her equally naked chest.

“I think Malfoy would sooner eat glass. He has tried to get rid of her fanning attention all year.”

“What the hell happened here?” Ginny asked, her headache winning out from any panic attacks that would normally lace her bloodstream in such a situation. “Are you Slytherins into group orgies?”

Blaise Zabini shook his head. “No,”

For some reason that was not a surprise. She had already suspected it hadn’t been normal. “Where’s my wand?” she asked slowly and he sat back, allowing her to sit up again.

He shook his head again, moving to the edge of the bed: “I don’t know.”

There were voices downstairs. Ginny swallowed a new wave of nausea away and started to collect her clothes, slowly stepping into her jeans. When she turned to look at the Slytherin boy she noticed him staring. Her cheeks flushed darker than her hair and Ginny narrowed her eyes. “Don’t look at me!” she hissed. 

He smirked. “But there is so much to look at.” he told her, “I want you to remember me fondly, this was your first time, wasn’t it?”

She was on him in seconds her fist connecting with his cheek and her knee pressing against his stomach. “You are an arsehole!” she cried, and Zabini seemed so surprised she was able to hit him a few times more before he caught her wrists and toppled them over. Pressing her arms against the mattress and immobilising her lower body by sitting on her hips (again) he glowered. 

“You will not do that again!” he hissed, stressing every word.

“Get off me!” she cried again, bucking against him, but not even managing to lift him an inch. 

“Like hell, I will!” he snapped back, tightening his grip on her wrist. “Listen, and listen carefully.”

She jutted her jaw out into an aggressive gesture but did nod. She did nod if only to give him the false pretence that she would listen. He exhaled loudly, pulling her wrists above her head, and grabbing them in one hand. Ginny’s eyes widened and she started to struggle again. 

“Stop it,” he hissed again. “Listen, I don’t know what happened! I drunk so much, I don’t even know how we ended in the same bed, although I vaguely remember pushing you against the wall and ravaging you, hell if I know why… So can you please finally calm down so that I can get a sober-up-potion? For fuck sake, it feels like a bunch of hippogriffs are rampaging through my head…”

“Ugh,” a female voice moaned and both Zabini and Ginny stiffened. “Who is being so loud so early in the morning?”

Pansy Parkinson, hair in absolute disarray sat up slowly. She looked rather pale and her dark hair framed her face, casting hard shadows over her cheekbones. Her eyes looked red-rimmed and her lipstick was smeared from her lips on her chin. She blinked lazily against the sunlight, and then her eyes widened. 

“What am I doing here?” she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper and her eyes widening comically. Ginny momentarily forgot she was being pressed to an unfamiliar — ‘not that unfamiliar’ the voice in her head muttered — bed by a very hostile very tall Slytherin, and watched with something akin to morbid fascination as Pansy Parkinson glanced down at her naked body. “I’m naked.” she glanced at the boy behind her over her shoulder. “Theodore!” she cried, falling backwards off the bed in a fashion much like how Ginny had discovered her surroundings. 

Theodore Nott, pale and weedy looking around almost lazily and slowly sat up. He was as pale as a sheet and he slowly lifted the covers looking at— well Ginny could imagine what he looked at, and letting them fall back over his thighs and dropped back onto his back without a word. 

“That’s it?” Pansy yelled grabbing someone’s school robe and wrapping it around herself. “What did you put into my drink?” she hissed accusingly and Ginny frowned. “I would never even look at you, what did you put into my drink?” she cried a little bit louder.

“Nothing,” Nott whispered, “My father is going to murder me,” he muttered to himself. 

Parkinson’s ears turned red and she started to frantically look around for something. “I’m going to hex you into—” her eyes fell upon Ginny. “Oh, for Circle’s sake, Blaise, you too?” she cried, her eyes widening when she noticed their position. “You’ve forced yourself on the She-Weasel?” Pansy shrieked. Nott shivered and Ginny grimaced. 

“What?” Blaise Zabini snapped, “No, why would you even think so?”

She gave him a look as if saying; ‘really?’, before swiftly slipping into a lime-green robe. “Get off her, you wanker!”

Ginny breathed in gratefully as Zabini jumped off the bed and stalked towards the pug-faced girl. “You and I both know I don’t need to force myself on a girl.” he told her threateningly, “And I would never go after a Blood-traitor, something is wrong with the booze!” 

“Well, thank you!” Ginny snapped angrily, inhaling slowly as her stomach lurched. “Oh, my God,” she whispered, hanging her head between her legs.

“Oh, I’m sorry, would you normally look twice at me?” Zabini asked sarcastically, completely oblivious to her nausea. “Because I don’t think you would. Nott, get the fuck out of the bed, we need to figure this out, where are the others?”

Theodore Nott slowly sat up again, wrapped the blankets around him and disappeared into the bathroom. They heard the toilet flush a few times as he made heaving noises. Parkinson slumped down onto the floor and grabbed the bottle, glaring at it. 

“Did this really cause it all?” she asked slowly, Ginny glanced through the gaps of her fingers at the other girl. She had to stay calm. She couldn’t panic now! If her brothers found out she slept with a Slytherin, a bigoted Slytherin at that, she would never hear the end of it. Ginny blinked against the hot stinging tears. No matter how much she wanted this to disappear, she couldn’t deny the truth. She had slept with Zabini and, try as she might, she had enjoyed it. Ginny peeked slowly at the tall Italian boy. She couldn’t deny that the Slytherin boy was extremely good looking. And — that was the problem — he knew it. It hadn’t mattered to Ginny though, she had always been enamoured with Harry Potter. 

That said, that didn’t mean she had shied away from all sexual matters. She had had boyfriends before after all, but she had never gone all the way. It was like her mother always said; she was too young and she hadn’t been able to find the right one… Or the right one hadn’t been able to see her as of yet.

Zabini seemed to finally realise he was still naked and slowly put on some trousers. Ginny felt her cheeks redden again. His shoulders were broad — nothing like Ronald’s dangly form — and he was almost as tall as Fred and George — almost the keyword. She swallowed as she felt a tingle of heat travel through her. Her mouth felt suddenly dry and she fisted the beddings into her hands. 

Zabini stared at her through half-lidded eyes, his eyes darkening considerably and Ginny tried to swallow. The door of the bathroom opened again and Theodore Nott appeared. He thankfully was now fully dressed and holding a wand. She was broken out of her strange trance and shook her head.

“I found this,” Nott muttered awkwardly. “Who’s is it?”

Ginny could have cried. She could have kissed him. That was her wand! She jumped to her feet and almost ran up to the pale boy. He looked at her as if she would jump him — it might have crossed her mind, he looked awfully endearing with that confused look on his face — and stopped in front of him staring at her wand with a hungry expression. “Can I have it back, please?” she asked slowly. 

Theodore Nott nodded, dropping it above her extended hand, making absolutely sure not to touch her. He straightened up, leaning forward suddenly and tugged the bottle out of Parkinson’s hand. “Blaise, do you really think there was something wrong with Draco’s booze?”

“Draco would never—” Parkinson started, only to be interrupted by the door slamming open. 

Severus Snape, head of Slytherin House stood in the door opening. His black, beady eyes flitted around the room, narrowing as he noticed Ginny and his face paled when he noticed the bottle in Nott’s hand.

“All of you get to the Common room!” he hissed lowly. “You too, Miss Weasley!” 

Ginny stiffened, her eyebrows furrowing and her knuckles turned white. “But Professor—”

The look he gave her was so dark, she hurried out of the room, hiding behind Zabini and Nott when they entered a dimly lit circular room and crossed her arms over her chest. Slytherin students; mostly fourteen year and above, a few Ravenclaw students; barely dressed and looking around the room as if someone would jump them, and in a far corner next to a window which looked out into the lake stood a group of Hufflepuffs huddling together.

“What the bloody hell happened here?” she asked softly. 

To be continued…


	2. Love Potion

Ginevra Molly Weasley was still reeling when she walked through the empty hallways an hour later. She’d wrapped her arms tightly around her waist and her breathing was thoroughly laboured. She was feeling sick to her stomach and as she slowly ascended the stairs she thought she was going to throw up. Ginny wasn’t sure if it was the knowledge that she had slept with a boy who was a cold-hearted, haughty, inbred, good-for-nothing bigot (he might be less pompous than say Draco Malfoy, he made up for it for not only insulting other students; he actually went out of his way to emotionally hurt them), or because if the explanation the Potion Professor Snape had given to everyone. 

As another wave of nausea travelled through her she slumped down onto the steps. Her heart had always belonged to Harry and even though she had followed Hermione’s advice to date other boys and give the boy who lived some space, that hadn’t meant she had been able to give herself entirely to Michael. The tears she had been so desperate to hide, ran down her cheeks and her lips parted as quiet sobs escaped them.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered, “Oh, my God!”

She rocked herself on the balls of her feet, her fingers fisting in the red tendrils of her hair. She had never in her life thought cold-hearted Blaise Zabini would glance at her with a look beyond disgust. She had never deigned him with a look beyond disgust at least. He was an arrogant, womanising Slytherin, but apparently, her emotions had — like they had so many times before — completely clouded her judgment and she had taken his dare. He had strolled into the library, claiming he needed a bit of fresh air, but looking back at it, she supposed he might actually have looked around for her and challenged her. Challenged her to drink from his bottle. Challenged her to take a sip of the spiked — or drugged — bottle of Ogden’s finest. She had complied. And it had been a big mistake. 

Someone, Professor Snape didn’t know who — but the murderous look on his face had made it clear he would find out —, had drugged all the bottles of spirits in the fifth year boys’ dorm room. Or more accurately, someone had spiked Draco Malfoy’s hidden stash of alcohol. The stash he’d smuggled into Hogwarts at the beginning of the year and which actually belonged to his father, so the teenagers could build a party.   
Malfoy and his patronising smirks and cold eyes hadn’t been there though. Apparently, he was nursing one of his fucking bottles somewhere else and he had yet to be found. Even though she practically hated everything Slytherin and she would love for any reason to kick Malfoy where it hurt most, she didn’t really think he was the one who’d spike his own bottles. It didn’t make sense if he had.

She squeezed her eyes shut, the coldness of the stone step permeated through her robes and distracted her slightly. A Potion like that, a controversial lust potion at that, not so many people could make it. Ginny couldn’t make it in the very least and according to Snape, half of the ingredients were illegal and the recipe was only accessible when you had written consent from a teacher for the restricted section of the library.

Ginny choked on a sob, that was half a bitter laugh, half an angry yell and slammed her fist against the wall. The tingling sensation of pain a welcoming sensation, so she did it again. 

Headmaster Dumbledore had come to the Dungeons as well. His eyes were wide and his face ashen. The students all had to promise not to tell anyone. Ginny realised he wanted to keep it silent. Or at least, didn’t want the whole student body to know. For now, the teachers were still looking for the other students affected. She was supposed to return to the Common room. Supposed to sleep last night off and tell the others she was sick, but she didn’t want to return to the common room. At Hogwarts, nothing stayed a secret. And Ginny didn’t want to face her brothers, her friends and most of all, she didn’t want to face Harry. 

No, she could not confront her friends and family right now. She needed some time for herself, away from her gossiping roommates and she knew exactly the place. She scrambled to her feet and continued ascending the stairs until he reached the end of the seventh-floor corridor. She moved as silently as possible and averted her eyes when she passed the many talking portraits that decorated the halls.  
She turned into the left corridor stopping before the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching a group of trolls how to do ballet. Raking a nervously shaking hand through her hair, Ginny walked past the opposite wall three times.

‘I need a place to escape from school, I need a place to escape from school!’

A door appeared and Ginny made a grumbling sort of sound. She rubbed her forehead in frustration and was about to open the door when a sound caught her off guard. Ginny listened at the door, waiting for any other sound beyond. When she heard nothing for several seconds, she shook her head, silently cursing her vivid imagination and reached for the knob. A chill ran through her and she shuddered, frowning. Slowly, Ginny twisted the doorknob, opening the door slightly.

“Drop the sheet, Granger!” a voice demanded and her mouth dropped when she recognised it as Malfoy’s voice. “Drop it, I mean it.”

“I don’t care what you mean,” Hermione Granger’s voice answered, Ginny, stood rooted to the spot. The door slightly ajar and their voices filtered into the seventh-floor corridor.

Ginny shook her head, before opening the door fully. Draco Malfoy — who else had such distinct blond hair —, half naked, although he could be fully naked, his buttocks were obstructed from view by a large king sized bed, had backed Hermione Granger (a pale white sheet wrapped around her body) up against the wall. 

Ginny’s first instinct was to go for her wand, but just as her fingers curled around the fine wood, Hermione smiled, dropping the sheet and giggled. She giggled — actually giggled — before reaching up and kissing the blond-haired boy. Ginny opened and closed her mouth and shook her head. In the last twenty-four hours, she’d seen more naked chests (and backs) than she had ever seen in the last fifteen years and that said something when you used to live with six brothers.

If she hadn’t known them, Ginny would have thought she was looking at a couple, very much in need of a room (beside the point that technically they had one). Ginny’s eyes narrowed when Malfoy’s hands smoothed down Hermione’s chest. She contemplated her options; one she could stomp into the room and stop the petite bushy-haired girl getting— laid (and very possible getting hexed for the efforts), or she could back out of the room get a teacher (preferably McGonagall) and let the teacher sort them out. 

Ginny frowned; plan ‘A’ wasn’t really an option, as Hermione was rather good with nasty curses and she rather not be the one getting in between those two (Malfoy had tucked his hands under Hermione’s thighs and she had responded by wrapping her legs around his waist), she slowly started to close the door again. However, she was never the most cautious of people. And because she wasn’t one of the most cautious people she tripped over her own feet and fell back on her back with a loud cry.

Ginny heard them stumble into the room and far sooner than she would have liked they appeared in the door opening. Malfoy had thankfully pulled on some trousers and Hermione Granger wore a green button-up which Ginny knew wasn’t hers.

“Ginny!” Hermione gasped, face turning pink and her eyes widened.

“Er, Hi, Hermione.” Ginny greeted sheepishly.

“Hi?” Malfoy echoed, disbelievingly looking Ginny up and down.

Ginny swallowed and smiled tightly. They were both out of breath, flushed and wide-eyed. For once Malfoy had nothing rude to say to her and Ginny stared back at them with an uneasy smile. “Uhm, everyone is looking for you, you know?” Ginny said, glancing to Malfoy, before getting to her feet.

Malfoy frowned, before twirling a lock of Hermione’s dark hair around his fingers. “I’m sure it can wait, Weasley, you’re really out of luck here, I say you have to find a different room to bunk with Potter.”

“Draco!” Hermione scolded, but she still smiled up at him. She took his hand and squeezed lovingly. Ginny felt slightly sick seeing the loving gesture, before taking a step back. They smelled odd.

“Listen, you both are drugged!” She tried, worrying her lower lip until she tasted blood. She didn’t want to be the one to bring it to them, but she had to. Especially since she couldn’t very well back out now and get a teacher (they would know it was her). Hermione, in a very Hermione-like way, smiled and before Ginny knew full well what was going on, she was led into the room. Bedsheets and clothes were haphazardly thrown to the floor and a bottle of Odgin’s finest stood empty but proudly on a windowsill. She’d never known the room of Requirement to find them a window. As Hermione leant against Malfoy in a way she’d seen Penny Clearwater do all those years ago when she was a first-year, Ginny grumbled. She certainly didn’t want to be the one who had to carry out this rather wearisome task.

Rubbing her forehead in frustration, she breathed out loudly. Why him, Why her? Why did she have to be the bearer of bad news? 

The room of requirement had taken the shape of a beautiful bedroom. A big bedroom at that. It was furnished with a small desk, a large four-poster bed with the remnants of an embroidered orange cover (she could take a good guess of what they had done on it) spread out over a soft rug covering the floor. Ginny sat down in the wooden chair next to the desk and tried to swallow the bile when she noticed a second empty bottle on the light wooden nightstand. 

“We need to find Professor Snape,” she tried, waiting for Draco Malfoy to make one of his rude remarks. He stayed silent, his eyes glassy and unfocused; it was as if he wasn’t really hearing her. 

“Do you two get what I am saying?” she asked, “The booze was spiked. Drugged. Someone put a love potion in it.”

“We know,” Hermione admitted, fingering Draco Malfoy’s shoulder. Malfoy’s right hand rested possessively on Hermione’s thigh. It was so weird, seeing Hermione lower her hand down his arm and slowly start tracing figures on the back of Malfoy’s hand. “It was the most logical explanation. A love potion—”

“What do you mean ‘we’ know?” Ginny asked, her voice rising a few octaves.

“Draco said it tasted funny,” Hermione explained. “And it’s still in our system, so we thought—”

“So you thought let’s make the most of it and shag on every piece of furniture I can come up with? Why the bloody hell not find a teacher?” Ginny asked, not sure if she wanted to scream at them or not. 

“Because no one can know,” Malfoy commented, turning to Hermione. “She can always join us. I certainly don’t think she’s going to leave” he sarcastically drawled.

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Ginny cried, “Your nasty, crude self is still there. I was already afraid it was completely gone.” 

Malfoy barely reacted to that and Ginny didn’t understand. Although her memories of her— encounter were hazy and she recognised the almost uncontrollable need, it had been very much dormant when she woke up this morning. 

She glanced at the empty bottles and felt her stomach tighten. “Hermione, when was the last time you had a drink from one of those bottles?” she asked, her voice high-pitched and her cheeks tinting pink.“About an hour ago, go away Weasley,” Malfoy answered, suddenly leaning towards her, his mouth tilting to catch Hermione’s and Ginny felt her mouth fall open. They had no shame. No shame at all. His hand languidly traced up Hermione’s stomach, cupping her breast and Ginny jumped to her feet, before turning around and practically sprinted towards the door.

“Right, I’m going,” she told the couple in a tight voice, before scurrying out of the room. 

“Sure, Gin,” Hermione muttered absentmindedly, as the blond Slytherin started to nip her neck. Ginny’s face turned scarlet and she slammed the door closed violently. It was just her luck that she tripped over the same jagged stone on the floor as she had half an hour ago and slammed down into the hard stone floor. Calming her ragged breathing, she momentarily stayed still where she was, unsure what she was supposed to do. Obviously, Malfoy and Hermione were still in the throws of that fucking Love potion and she was relatively sure her mother had once told her you shouldn’t interfere with people under a Love Potion because it ensured violence.

“Bloody hell,” she grumbled. 

“Now, now, now,” the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy said, “those words are unbecoming of a lady!” he scolded her and Ginny groaned. Of all the portraits, it had to be the most annoying of them all. 

Ginny slowly sat up against the wall, her caramel eyes wide and shocked; “Well, I’m not very good at being a lady, anyway.” she told him matter-of-factly. 

She backed away, slowly. Her original plan of finding a teacher seemed once again her best option and she set out to find her Head of House. At least Minerva McGonagall was — although strict — trustworthy and fair, not to mention, she’d know how to sort the temporary-couple out. Just the combination Ginny needed and most of all the combination she wanted. 

“Miss Weasley,” Professor McGonagall greeted her when she found the older woman, grading papers in her office. “What can I do for you?”

Ginny’s cheeks were still crimson and her breath was coming in loud laboured pants. McGonagall’s eyebrows rose in worry. “Miss Weasley?”

Ginny felt her face heat up even further and rubbed her hands together. “Have you heard of the problems with the Slytherins last morning?” she started, certainly she knew didn’t she?s

Professor McGonagall turned a mottled shade of red, looking as embarrassed by the question as Ginny felt. “Ah, yes, Albus told me,” she muttered, before glancing at the youngest Weasley. “I’m sure everyone would understand if I contacted your mother, dear, no need to talk to me about…”

“Oh, I— No!” Ginny stammered. Her mother was the last person on earth to whom she’d tell about her very embarrassing, very pleasa— horrifying first time. “I— Well, Professor Snape mentioned Malfoy missing and—”

“You know where Mister Malfoy is?”

“Yes,” Ginny nodded, “Yes, I know where he is, where he has been and with whom he spent the evening, night and all of the morning.

“He’s with someone?” Professor McGonagall summarised, realising why Ginny Weasley came to her office.

“Yeah, and the Potion is very potent,” Ginny muttered.

Professor McGonagall drew in a sharp gasp of shock, before letting Ginny lead the way to the seventh floor. Professor McGonagall pretended to buy Ginny’s silly excuse what the room was for (‘whenever your bedroom doesn’t suffice,’ she’d mumbled and McGonagall had nodded in response), and promised not to tell anyone about it. They arrived at the seventh-floor corridor with the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy — Barnabas bowed low when he noticed Ginny’s head of House — and Ginny walked past the wall three times. When the door appeared, she wished her head of house good luck and bolted. 

“MISTER MALFOY, MISS GRANGER?” Professor McGonagall cried, and Ginny started to swiftly climb the stairs. “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?”

Ginny did her best not to roll her eyes at that. What did she think they were doing, Ginny quickened her step and took the steps two at a time. She returned red-faced into the Common room. On second thought; her loud roommates sounded wonderful to be around right now. In the end, her rowdy roommates (who were all very much aware of what was called the Slytherin debacle) had done little to distract Ginny from the mounting guilt that had settled into the pit of her stomach. 

Ginny felt horrible. She had tattled on her brother’s best friend; had basically betrayed said friend and now she only had to wait for Hermione Granger to react. And Hermione Granger could be a mean thing when angered. 

Yet, Hermione Granger didn’t seek her out that weekend and Ginny refused to leave her bedroom until Monday arrived. It was a slightly subdued scene that morning and even though it was supposed to stay a secret, news had travelled through all four Houses. Although, the other students might not have been privy to who partnered up with who, that didn’t stop the most impressive journalistic structure Hogwarts had; the rumour mill. For now, Ginny was glad, she wasn’t linked to the events, but she wondered if she truly could stay out of it. Too many people knew about her involvement (every Slytherin did and it was only a matter of time before Fred and George pushed one of them too far). 

More than half of the Slytherins had forgone breakfast. In shame or in favour of a few extra hours of sleep, no one really knew. The ones who had dared to come to breakfast that morning were vastly ridiculed. Malfoy wasn’t there, nor was Hermione Granger and Ginny frowned. 

The younger Slytherins didn’t seem to understand what was going on. They were being ridiculed, that much was obvious, but the hadn’t had any part in the drinking games that had been held on Saturday, and they certainly hadn’t sneaked girls up to their rooms — after all girls weren’t capable of sneaking boys up their rooms — only to be discovered by their Head of House. 

Ginny felt conflicted. Just like the rest of the school, she thought they had it coming, but on the other hand, she had experienced first-hand what that prank did to someone. All common sense had left her and she had pretty much jumped Zabini after fighting for a minute against the strange compulsion that had driven her to him.   
“—you heard?” Parvati whispered and Ginny’s ears perked up. 

“What?” Lizzy, one of Ginny’s roommates and her friend, said. When the news had spread through Gryffindor tower, Lavender Brown had been the one who’d gone out to investigate. Ginny was pretty sure Lavender had not gone to bed as yet and was relying on an almost lethal dose of sugar to get through the day (Lavender had added half the sugar pot into her cup tea that morning). 

“They found Malfoy last night,” Parvati whispered and Lavender, seated to Parvati’s right nodded — before adding another sugar to her tea — and smirked. Ginny’s mouth went dry.

“Apparently he was drugged too,” Lavender told them. “He had the highest dose, pure luck or should I say; ‘unluck’, and Hanna Abbott saw him being dragged off yesterday by McGonagall when she did her rounds. She’s a Prefect you know?”

Lizzy nodded eagerly and Ginny ducked her head behind a jug of water. “Yes, I know. Was he with someone?”

“Are you kidding me?” Parvati asked before Lavender could get another word out. “Yes, he was with someone, with the amount of potion he had in his system there was no way he wouldn’t be with someone.”

“Who?”

“Hermione Granger, our resident bookworm,” Parvati told the girls gleefully. Ginny’s fingers tightened around her fork. 

“You serious?” Lizzy answered, staring at Lavender Brown as if she’d never really seen her. Ginny felt her shoulders stiffen and stabbed her sausage with her fork. 

“Well, do you see any of them?” Lavender whispered conspiringly. “Apparently, he went to post a letter at the Owlery and Hermione was there as well. How he got her to drink something is beyond me, but well, I don’t need to draw a picture by what they did, do I?” 

“Circle, but then again. He is handsome.” Parvati commented and shrugged when Lavender sneered, “Oh please. You’ve said it more than once. When you get past the glaring and the sneering, he’s rather handsome.”

Ginny snorted. “On what planet?” Well, he had a nice chest; Ginny turned red.

“My mother says it’s a defence mechanism,” Lizzy announced, glancing at the still empty Slytherin table.

“Well, your mother is insane,” Lavender chuckled. “But I suppose he isn’t ugly on the outside, I can admit that.”

“Do Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley know that? I mean she is their best friend!” Lizzy asked, and Ginny’s eyes flitted over the students around the Gryffindor table. That was a good question.

Her brothers with their flaming red hair were easily recognisable. Fred and George were both looking at some book, grinning from ear-to-ear and she heard them mutter, even from her seat, about something causing the gag reflex.  
Ron Weasley, the youngest son of the Weasley family and her most stubborn brother of all of them, was seated at the other end of the table. His face was pale, almost ashen, and he was chewing quickly on a piece of toast. Ginny rolled her eyes; absolutely nothing kept that boy from his food, did it?

Harry Potter, his eyes were so green— so divine so— ‘No, focus, Ginny!’ Harry Potter was fingering his food looking rather sickly.

She shook her head, glancing over her shoulder towards the Slytherin table, before back at Harry again. He appeared tired and withdrawn, his hair even more tousled than usual. Ginny didn’t know what he was discussing with her brother — she had a good idea, though —, but as Ron explained something, Harry slumped further down onto the table, catching his head on his forearms.

Ginny felt her heart squeeze. This was her fault; she had tattled on Hermione and Malfoy. She had to, but she hadn’t really felt as bad as she did now. A jealous little voice whispered to her. She had always envied Hermione Granger and there might have been a part that had been thrilled when she had found something on the other girl, but now. She got up from her seat and slowly, ever so slowly, walked towards Harry and Ron. When she got closer she noticed the bags under Ron’s eyes and the mouth that had drawn back into a tight line.

“— can’t believe it—” Ron whispered, rubbing his eyes. “I mean why couldn’t he just have, I don’t know performance anxiety, like every normal guy during their first time—”

“Who says it was his first time,” Harry mumbled, groaning loudly, “He had Parkinson hanging on his arms for God knows how long…”

“That’s not how Pure-blood marriages work.” Ron muttered, “Fooling around, yeah sure. Snogging in darkened cupboards, fine, frowned upon, but fine, but shagging when you’re still in school? No!”

“Well, the drinking didn’t help of course,” Harry’s head shot up and Ginny gasped when Luna Lovegood, her dirty blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail — bound together by an onion string — and her protuberant eyes dreamily, stepped up next to them. “The alcohol doesn’t go well with Ashwinder eggs, it strengthens the potency of the Love Potion. Oh and, of course, it affects the male anatomy, heating the blood, and with that, they get an—”

“Luna!”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Please,” he muttered, glancing over his arm. His face was flushed red and his fingers curled into a fist. “I get it, stop talking about it. I really don’t want to hear about Malfoy’s— anything!”

“Oh, but it’s a natural reaction, you know?” she added, fingering her cork necklace. “The Nargels could have been involved too, they’re quite known for making people act oddly.” she smiled, before glancing at Ginny. “Are you all right, Ginny?”

Ginny felt her face flush, “Why are there Nargles around my head?”

“Only a few, but I’ve heard about what happened to you and—” she started, only to be rudely interrupted.

“What happened to her?” Ron demanded, slamming his hand onto the table. His glass of pumpkin juice toppled over. Ginny shook her head from side to side and mouthed ‘no’ to the blonde girl, before snatching a napkin from under Harry’s hand and slapped her brother with it. 

“Clean up the mess, you idiot.” she snapped, Ron reluctantly picked up the napkin and dabbed at the liquid. “Nothing happened, come on Luna, we’ve got classes to attend to.”

Luna nodded slowly, her eyes dreamy and her eyes flitting curiously between Ginny and her brother. Ginny nodded to both boys, she even managed to pat Harry consolingly on his shoulder — but even that didn’t manage to make her feel good — before following Luna out of the Great Hall. Her eyes were glued to the other girl’s back; ‘She knew!’ 

And if Luna knew, who never gave a rat’s arse what anybody said, then more people already knew too.

She was screwed…

To be continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So I put Ginny Weasley’s birthday at the nineteenth of November because I like that age for sexual intercourse better (although still very young, all right). I’ve googled the presumable date. The date was said to be on the eleventh of August, but her birthday was never mentioned during any of the books, so I decided it wouldn’t be a problem if I changed it. Thereby, Scorpion fits Ginny really well; they’re strong-willed (stubborn), jealous, sometimes violent but sharp emotional, sexy, reliable and so on. So scorpion it is.
> 
> How many of you have a good idea who pulled the prank? I’m quite curious who you all think has done it. 
> 
> As to answer one review to all; this story will be both a Ginny/Blaise as a Hermione/Draco story. That tag Hermione/Draco comes first was not intentional but has more to do with the fact that I am still new to the tags work at this site. But I'll get there! 
> 
> Harry Potter doesn’t belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Here is the first chapter (the prologue) of Crimson Peak. This is mostly dedicated to my best friend, who had been asking for a Blaise/Ginny story for a while now, but I never did until recently. Emma, I hope you enjoy this little mystery, everyone else, enjoy too! As for the story; it will be updated once in the two weeks and will focus on both Ginny and Blaise and Hermione and Draco. 
> 
> Please comment and let me know what you all thought. I’d love to hear everyone’s thoughts.
> 
> Harry Potter does not belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling.


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